Welcome to the Jungle
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: He was a lot like you. He was a mystery. GSR and spoilers for 7x15 Law of Gravity
1. Sweet Jane

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Very, very slight spoilers for 7x12, Sweet Jane. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.

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Welcome to the Jungle 

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"You shouldn't be in here." 

The woman's voice didn't startle Keppler, but he turned around in order to see the face that went with it. It was a remarkable face, but the slight crease in her forehead told him that whatever trespass he'd committed was no minor infraction.

He held up his newly issued ID badge for her to see. "I'm just looking for my office."

She folded her arms over her chest. "This isn't it."

Keppler nodded, glancing around at the assortment of oddities decorating the room. Animals in jars, bugs behind glass, bones used as paperweights, and too many books to count. "Yes, I was about to conclude the same thing." He picked up the name plate from the desk. "Gil Grissom, Supervisor." He set it down. "I haven't met him yet. Mike Keppler," he introduced himself. "Are you Sandra?"

"Sara," she corrected him with a slight frown. "Sidle."

"Sara. I'm sorry." Yes, she was more of a Sara than a Sandra. "Nice to meet you either way."

She didn't return the sentiment. If you counted his faux pas at Jane Doe's crime scene, he was already off to a bad start with both the women of the graveyard shift.

"This is some office," Keppler said after an awkward moment passed between them. "Reminds me of my junior high science classroom."

"Actually there isn't anything in this office that doesn't have some significance," Sara informed him, a bit too vehemently. "We would have lost a teammate a few years back if these books hadn't been available to us."

He studied the woman. Her attractiveness went beyond just her face; he was a man who could appreciate both a sultry blonde and a striking brunette at the same time. But he had the feeling he was pissing her off by blindly stepping on someone's toes. And he wasn't quite sure if they were hers or if they belonged to Gil Grissom.

"He's an entomologist," Sara went on without biding. "He likes to be around his bugs. And he works too much, so he's turned this place into his second home. It might seem haphazard and creepy to you, but he knows where everything is. He's a brilliant…" She stopped all of a sudden.

Keppler waited for her to go on, but she didn't. She only tightened her folded arms and glanced down at the floor.

"Well," he finally said. "I didn't say I didn't like my junior high science class." He was quiet until Sara lifted her eyes again. "I look forward to meeting him."

"It'll be awhile," she said in a soft, sad voice. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, she'd regained her no-nonsense tone. "He likes his privacy, so if you could…" She gestured to the door.

He could sense that there was a story she was trying very hard to hide from him, but beyond natural curiosity, he had no inclination to go after it. "Maybe this door should be locked, so no one accidentally comes in here."

Sara pointed at something past him. He turned his head, and noticed the large aquarium for the first time. It was occupied by a very large tarantula, a fitting pet for the man who had been described to him.

She explained woodenly, as if reciting a lesson. "Change the water every day, and no more than three crickets a week."

"What did you do to get stuck with that chore?" Keppler asked. Maybe this is what they did in Vegas to criminalists who touched the body before the coroner arrived.

Sara slowly shook her head. "Just lucky, I guess."

"Okay." As he moved towards the door, she moved further into the office. They passed each other somewhere in the middle, and he caught a whiff of a clean, feminine shampoo. This job certainly had some advantages. "I guess I'll keep looking for my office, then."

She was already at the cage, reaching inside for the water dish without hesitation or squeamishness. He wasn't sure he'd be quite so composed with his hand less than five inches from a gigantic spider.

"Try the empty room to the left at the end of the hall," she said. Glancing up, she gave him a cool smile. "Welcome to the team."

Keppler was a smart man. He got Sara Sidle's message loud and clear.

_Don't get too comfortable…you're not taking anyone's place._

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Fin? 


	2. Redrum

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I was wonderfully surprised at the postive response to this story. I didn't think I was going to continue it, but after tonight's episode, the wheels started turning. Plus my beta says if I write a new chapter of one of my WIP's, I can post the first chapter of a new one!! I don't think this is what she had in mind, but oh well. Loopholes, baby. Loopholes. Thanks for reading!!

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Welcome to the Jungle

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"I know what you're thinking."

The woman standing in front of the spider's tank lifted her head, but didn't turn around to face him. In fact, she didn't acknowledge him at all. She reached for a plastic tub labeled _Crickets—Yum!_

Keppler stepped into Gil Grissom's sanctuary. "I said, I know what you're thinking."

"I heard you the first time." Sara dropped a plump insect into the cage and closed it up. After securing the lid on the crickets, she finally turned. Her expression was carefully neutral. "And trust me, you couldn't possibly."

He looked around. "We're in private. That's how you prefer to talk, isn't it?"

"You're assuming too much to think that I have anything to say to you."

"Our intention was to put a killer away. Justice sometimes comes with a steep price tag."

She opened one of Grissom's desk drawers and dropped the crickets into it. "The trust and unity of a team should be priceless." She pushed the drawer shut with a metallic clang. "To most people, it is."

"Is it priceless to him?" Keppler gestured around the room.

"Invaluable," Sara shot back. "If he were here, your 'reverse forensics' never even would have made it to the drawing board."

Keppler nodded. He'd expected hostility. Sara Sidle was a fighter, perhaps even feistier than their temporary supervisor. "But it worked, didn't it? We got him."

She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head, a rueful half-smile coloring her unconventional face. "You know, I think you and Catherine should work together from now on. You're two of a kind."

"Thank you." He paused. "I think."

"Oh, it wasn't a compliment," she assured him. "There are lines you don't cross, even in the pursuit of justice. You obviously don't know that any better than she does."

He folded his arms. "You've never blurred the lines if the greater good demanded it? I find that hard to believe."

"You can believe whatever the hell you want." Sara sat on the edge of the desk. "But I was taught better than that."

"I was taught that loopholes aren't only for criminals." Keppler wandered to a shelf and picked up a small jar. A human eyeball rolled around in yellowish formaldehyde. "Do you ever get the feeling this is watching you?"

"You have no idea the damage you've caused." The soft quality of her voice surprised him. When he looked at her, she was glancing off into space. "Grissom just put our team back together. But you…you've divided us more deeply than Ecklie ever did."

He frowned. "It was a risk we had to take."

"I'm sure it helps Catherine sleep at night to think that's true."

With a sigh, Keppler set the jar down and slipped his hands into his pockets. "It is true, Sara."

She looked at him with cold eyes. "I bet you never have any trouble sleeping. Do you?" Swallowing, he lifted one shoulder. "Yeah, I figured." Standing, Sara turned back to the cage. The tarantula had retreated to one corner with his meal. She took the opportunity to open the lid again and reach down for the water dish.

He realized he was being silently dismissed, and he found himself admiring the woman who'd turned her back on him. At the door, he looked back at Sara Sidle. She was an oddity, like everything else in this office. And like the bugs and specimens, she just seemed to fit there.

Although he acknowledged that their conversation was over, Keppler couldn't resist having the last word.

"Catherine worried that her boys would figure everything out. But I think she should have been more concerned about you."

With a smile, he left her to her daily chore.

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To Be Continued? 


	3. Meet Market

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything up to and including 7x14 Meet Market. Thanks to everyone for stopping by; I hope I never waste your time:)

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Welcome to the Jungle

by Kristen Elizabeth

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After a long night in the morgue with Nick, Keppler was looking forward to coffee and a shower, both preferably as hot as he could get them. Maybe tonight he could scrub the past out of his very pores. Not that he'd ever succeeded before. But he always tried.

All he wanted was to grab his things from his office and leave without being noticed. But when he heard a soft, teary sniffle emanating from the open door he would have to pass in order to reach his own, innate curiosity won out, and he put his steaming hot plans on hold.

He wasn't surprised to see who was shedding tears in Gil Grissom's office.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Keppler said, wryly.

Sara's head shot up from its resting place on her arm. Immediately she wiped her cheeks dry with her sleeve, and cleared her throat. "Why are you still here?"

"I love overtime." The miniature models were still out, and still just as fascinating. He felt like he could look at them forever and find something new every minute. Even as he spoke to her, he couldn't tear his eyes away from them. "Bad day?" She nodded. "I bet mine was worse."

Through the plexiglass lock-box, he saw her close her eyes. "I told a son he killed his mother today." Only someone trained to listen would have noticed the slight quibble on the word 'mother.'

Keppler bent over for a better view of what appeared to be a chicken factory. "I dug up the bodies of fifteen people who'd been infected by diseased body parts."

Sara was quiet for a second. "We'll call it even," she finally said.

Straightening up with a smile playing on his lips, something new in the office caught his eye. Moving closer to the newest aquarium, Keppler peered inside. "What will this become?" He pointed to the delicately spun bundle resting in a forked branch.

Her head jerked back and forth. "I don't know. A butterfly, probably."

"Probably not." She frowned and he continued, "Butterflies emerge from chrysalises. That's a cocoon." The look she gave him demanded an explanation. "I got lucky in a butterfly garden on a high school field trip."

Pushing away from the desk, Sara abruptly stood. The speed with which she changed the subject was even more telling. "Look, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention to anyone that I was in here…you know…" When he gave her a purposely blank look, she sighed and added, "…crying." She squared her shoulders. "It's not something I do very often."

"I find it a liberating release. Consider yourself lucky that you still can." Keppler looked back at the models. If Sara was even half the criminalist he believed her to be, she would see too much if he let her look too long. "Don't be ashamed to show compassion for anyone, Sara. Even boys who kill their mothers."

"What about people who harvest disease-ridden body parts?"

He answered without hesitation. "They can rot without it."

The corners of her lips curved up into a very appealing smile. "At least we can agree on that."

"Surely there must be something more than that." He knelt down, putting himself at eye level with a little plastic body hanging out of a window. "You asked me if I missed Philly. Have you spent time there yourself?"

"No." She hesitated, as if deciding how much she wanted to reveal. "I went to Harvard though."

"Ah, so that would be you topping the list of the lab's combined academia." Keppler nodded as he stood up. "I didn't figure you to be a graduate of UNLV night school."

Sara's smile was sickly sweet. "That would be your partner in crime."

"Catherine," he said. "Huh. I would have guessed Sanders."

"Stanford," she replied, her tone instantly cooler. "Don't underestimate him."

He inclined his head. "I'll remember that."

Silence descended between them, and after awhile, his attention wandered back to the miniatures. He would have kept them, too, and pored over them every chance he got. There was a macabre magic woven into the woods and plastics and fabrics. A taunting mystery in each tiny component.

If the rumors were true, and Gil Grissom had left Vegas on the brink of madness, he had a pretty good idea what might have driven him there.

Sara's question came out of the blue. "When you were able to, who did you cry for?"

"I cried for innocence," he said after a moment.

"Poetic."

Regaining his composure, he deadpanned, "No, there was a hooker named Innocence. Cut to ribbons and dumped near the Liberty Bell. She had three kids under six. Sometimes I can still see the parts of her face she had left."

She gaped at him for several long seconds. "You're a shade on the creepy side."

"I thought you liked that in a man," Keppler shot back, gesturing around the office.

The conversation pretty much died right then. Her face went blank. Her arms folded like a shield against him. Before she could kick him out, he started for the door.

Upon reaching the threshold, he looked back. "Your secret is safe with me, Sara," he assured her.

"Why? Are you experienced in keeping them?"

Their eyes met. There was a challenge in her stare that he had no intention of answering. Tilting his head to the side in parting acknowledgement, he left.

When he passed the office again on his way out, she was standing in front of the aquarium, watching the cocoon. He made a mental note to pick her up a book on moths.

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To Be Continued 


	4. Law of Gravity

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: To follow.

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Welcome to the Jungle

by Kristen Elizabeth

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"Should you be in here?"

Sara's head jerked up at the sound of his voice. She wasn't sure when she'd become accustomed to hearing it again. Four weeks had felt more like four years.

She glanced around the office that had so briefly belonged to Mike Keppler. It was almost as bare as it had been the day he'd gone searching for it, and found Grissom's instead. He hadn't added any life to it. No personal items, no awards, no pictures. There was nothing left to remember him by.

"Probably not," she answered Grissom's question. "How's Catherine?"

"I don't know. I sent her home." He leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pants pockets. "Did she and Keppler…?" He let the question dangle in mid-air.

Sara shook her head. "I don't think so. But maybe she wanted to." Sara walked around Keppler's desk. "She wouldn't have been the only one."

When she glanced up, he was watching her very closely. "How well did you get to know him?" he asked almost too softly.

"We talked a few times," Sara replied non-chalantly.

He was worried; she could tell from the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What about?"

With a small sigh, she sat on the edge of the desk. "I don't know, Grissom. Things. Cases. Philadelphia." She paused. "You." At his puzzled look, she elaborated, "He found your office fascinating."

"He was in my office?"

Sara nodded, her eyes unconsciously fixed on a spot on the floor. "He had a dark sense of humor. You probably would have appreciated it." She blinked and glanced up. "I don't know everything about what he did, but whatever it was, he would have had his reasons. Good ones. He might have had his own way of arriving at it, but he believed in justice."

Grissom tilted his head to one side ever so slightly. "You gathered all of that from talking to him a few times?"

She stared at him for a second before letting out a short, harsh chuckle. "You are unbelievable, you know that?" She slid off the desk. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone right now."

He came up behind her so quickly that she didn't have time to escape. There was no excuse to avoid him anymore. He was so close that she could smell his aftershave, that wonderful spicy sent she'd missed so much.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His breath whispered through the hairs on the back of her neck. Her whole body felt taut with both anger and desire. "Honey…"

Sara turned around, putting them face to face. "He wasn't a bad guy. He…" She bit her lip to hold back a smile. "He got laid in a butterfly garden once."

Grissom's Adam's apple bobbed. "Well. He earns points in my book for that." A long moment passed. "I missed you, Sara."

"Then…you just forgot my address and my phone number?" she whispered. He didn't answer, and she hadn't expected him to. "You really do look good. You look happy." She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, her lashes were wet. "I guess being away from here agreed with you."

"Only to the extent that it made me appreciate everything I left behind."

The moment was dangerous. Although the lab was moving in a state of slow motion after the news of Keppler's death, the door to his office was still open and anyone could walk by. But after four weeks, she only had so much self-control. He was right in front of her, smelling so wonderful, and she was a lost woman.

It wasn't until their lips met that she realized how much she'd missed the tickle of facial hair against her skin. She'd been the biggest supporter of him shaving it off; she'd wanted to know what it would be like to kiss the smooth face for which she'd first fallen. But she hadn't recognized how much it had become a part of him.

She broke away first, afraid of what might happen if she didn't. Stepping back, Sara fought to keep her arms at her sides. "You should call and check on Catherine," she said.

Grissom touched his fingers to his mouth before running them down the over-grown length of his beard. "Will you come over later?"

"You know I will," she said quietly.

He glanced around the bare walls. "I wish I could have gotten to know the man you all knew."

"He was a lot like you." Sara lifted one shoulder. "He was a mystery."

With a frown crinkling his forehead, Grissom backed out of the room. When he was gone, Sara released a breath and sank into Keppler's chair. She sat there for a long time before curiosity got the better of her.

The drawers of his desk were empty, save for the third one down which contained a single paperback book.

Discovering Moths: Nighttime Jewels in Your Own Backyard.

Sara lifted it out and opened the front cover with trembling hands. There was scrawled writing inside. She blinked back tears as she read the words he'd left behind.

_Whatever hatches, treat it with compassion. The greater good demands it._

_Mike Keppler_

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Fin

A/N: As comes the end of the man called Keppler, so comes the end of this story. Thank you for reading, and for all of your kind, enthusiastic, insightful comments. It was fun to write with a different character for awhile, and I'm glad you found it worthy of your time;) Take care!


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